BARBER OF BALD

One evening I went out to the streets to find a barber. It had been a while since my last visit to a barber. I used to have a long hair. During those times, barber was never in my destination list. The hair was all long and natural, never to be modified. Then I got it cut. Now it had grown again. And would have to be cut again in that very evening.
So before I got to a barber, I made an unusual pre-selection. I wanted to cut my hair with a unique barber that had to both look and work different. It might not be a very big deal, but I wanted my return to the barber, memorable. Haha
Anyway, I turned my steps towards the main street. There I had my pre-selection started. You have to know that there so many barbers in Turkey. Unlike most Indonesian, hair growth here is pretty fertile, just like many other countries in Europe.
People here don't only have their hair cut, they also have their face shaved in the barber. So this bussiness are always around to meet people's demand.
After a while I started to feel hopeless cause as I walked farther, there was no sign of a barber that met my qualifiation. Thus I decided to simplify my criteria. From then on, I would get into any barber who is either bald or long haired.
Not long after my wish was granted. There was this bald guy, who came out of his shop and greeted me. I was not very sure about him but, as he was bald, I decided that he was the barber.
So I went into his shop and immediately sat in front of the mirror. We talked for a while. He was thirty eight, married with two children. He thought I was of Chinese origin. He said that my eyes were really small, similar to those who played kung fu in the movies.
His comment was really hillarious. Explaining would not correct him anyway, so I decided to enjoy his joke.
I showed him a photo, and was expecting him to immitate the style the picture had. At first he shooked his head, approving my wish. But then as he cut through, my hair was only getting shorter. It didn't turned into the model I had desired.
Then on he finished up his job. He asked me of my satisfaction with his job. I had actually wanted to complain. But what had been cut could never return back to mu head. Thus I smiled and told him that it was great.
I paid the fee and went back. The haircut wasn't really bad though. It was just not as what I had expected. While walking, I rubbed my head, trying to convinced the world.
"This is my new hair man!" haha